First Comes Duty (The Hope Island Chronicles Book 2) (41 page)

“Admiral, all ships report a clean egression, Sir.”

“Very well,” Admiral Braun said.

Commodore Herschel and the ninth fleet should be at the channel by now. He would support Commodore Becklin’s fleet and report back on his progress. With the battle platform under their control, and the Bretish picket destroyed by now, nothing could stop them. Even if word got out, the Brets had nothing in the area to match his forces. It would take weeks for word to get back to Bretain, and weeks more to mount an effective force and get it to Cimmeria. 

Yes, this would be one for the history books.

***

“Nathan, my explosion will destroy this battle station and the Grand Channel. Please alter your course.”

Did she say
my
explosion? And another
please
.

“I will stop that from happening if you give me full control of this station.”

“Under the parameters of my reprogramming, I cannot kill, or by my actions or—”

“Got it.”

His head hovered over the scanning hood. The lingering destroyer turned in to the channel. Nathan watched in horror as another mass of battleships took station behind it.

“Fuck! Give me weapons control, you miserable piece of—” His words caught in his throat as he spied the single green light on the weapons console.

“Poly.”

“Yes, Nathan.”

“Conduct a level-one diagnostic of all your operating systems. Confirm.”

“This will greatly reduce my interactive capabilities.”

“Understood. Comply.”

“Complying.”

Maybe if she’s kept busy, it might buy me time.

The destroyer continued through the channel, carefully staying in the center to avoid the emitters. Nathan located the weapons scanner and immediately dismissed the idea. Poly would pick up on a lock-on. Whatever he did, he would have to do it manually. And very quickly. He would get only one shot at this before Poly caught on.

The enemy warship had nearly breached the exit to the Grand Channel. Nathan followed her every movement.

Now, let’s see you bank over to starboard, you square-headed fucker.

She came to a full stop at the exit.

Reporting to the main fleet?
He was speculating, but it was not the first guess he had made in the last two days.

Nathan waited, his knuckles rapping against the console.

The destroyer began moving, her speed increasing rapidly. She continued on toward the KC.

Come on, come on.

Finally she hauled over to starboard.

Nathan grinned as her keel swung into view.
One shot
. Tracking onto the destroyer’s stern, he depressed the firing stud. The power of the battleship-sized pulsar struck the destroyer, tore through her armor and pierced her engineering section. She disappeared in a brief, fiery explosion.

“Yeah, hang onto that,” he growled.

“Nathan, what are you doing?”

“Your job.”

“You have killed human beings.”

“No, just Pruessens.”

“To kill is a sin.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

The first of the battleships entered the channel. Another followed close on her heels. Power to his tactical station died.

“Poly, time to impact with the channel.”

Nothing.

“Poly, respond.”

More nothing.

Nathan could not tell from his readouts how close they were to the channel. He strode from the tactical station and stood before the massive view plate. Nothing but the maw of the gigantic channel could be seen. Nathan’s back flared.

At full speed, and with a mass of seven million tonnes, the King Charles Battle Platform plowed into the leading edge of the Grand Channel. The impact knocked Nathan from his feet. Grabbing a nearby console, he hauled himself to a standing position. At least four battleships had entered the channel. 

Another impact threw him to the deck as the station continued along its remorseless path to destruction.

“And, I’m outta here.”

Nathan sprinted to the nearest drop shaft.

***

Commodore Becklin surveyed his magnificent fleet. His twelve battleships should be more than enough to dispatch whatever remained of the Bretish naval units. If any did.

“Still no sign of them, Sir,” his T-O said. “I believe they’re hiding on the far side of the planet.”

“Hmm.” Becklin did not want to risk destroying the civilian fleet. He needed them to transport his booty back to Pruessen. The Brets had to be drawn out, away from the bulk carriers.

“Comm, put me through to Captain Gungerston on Noranda’s Promise.”

***

Nathan sped down the drop shaft as the station shuddered under another massive collision. It smashed him into the shaft’s wall. He took the pain and pushed on.

“Gotta go, gotta go.”

Time dragged before the number 22 appeared on the shaft’s wall. Nathan slipped from the drop shaft, his feet dropping onto deck twenty-two. He had found the right deck, but the wrong section. Yet again, he was reminded of the immensity of the station. 

Where the hell did I park?

On a hunch, he sprinted to port, through two open hatchways and into the landing bay. His Kamora awaited him.

Taking the steps two at a time, he fell into the combat chair. He tapped his external comm. “SMC, prepare for departure. Drop sequence on both combat chairs on my mark.  Mark.”

The KC lurched violently to port. Nathan’s breath caught as the Kamora tilted over on one main skid and hovered for a moment before dropping back to the deck.

As his chair dropped into the combat sphere, he buckled in and activated shields and weapons systems. Overriding preflight checks, he brought his flight systems online. Hovering a few meters off the deck, he retracted the skids and brought the shields to maximum. 

Nathan edged his fighter to the bay’s exit. The station staggered under another impossible impact. The deck heaved under him and he corrected just in time to prevent a collision with the bulkhead.

Ahead, the exit looked as if a firestorm was passing. Great chunks of the Massey Archipelago tumbled past, forming an unbroken barrier to his escape.

“Pilot, SMC.”

The computer’s calling me?

“Pilot.”

“Option to retract external stabilizers is available.”

“Yes, SMC, do so.”

Both vertical and horizontal stabilizers retracted.

“What a machine.”

The KC crashed into something massive and hauled over to starboard at a forty-degree angle. Nathan adjusted to the violent pitch, but lost some paintwork.

“Gotta go, gotta go.”

Moving to the very edge of the massive boat bay gave him a better view of the oncoming horizontal avalanche. A huge boulder slammed into the station, making it stagger. It rolled end over end down the side of the KC, heading straight for him. Nathan readied himself. Repositioning to the other side of the landing bay, he waited, waited until the boulder tumbled by. He darted from the bay, sliding in behind the great rock. Impacts from surrounding debris struck at his shields, but were small enough not to cause damage. Around him was a sea of churning chaos, ahead a possible exit point. The boulder shunted aside or pulverized anything in its path. Following in its wake spared him from the worst of the rocky debris. Multiple impacts hit his shields. His power levels were being drained, and he could not be certain how much more punishment his shields could take. On and on through the turbulent sea of detritus he followed his escort until it slowly began to thin out. Avoiding the more lethal asteroids, he piloted his boat away from the danger zone.  

Nathan pushed the throttles into the red, passing his massive friend and heading out into open space. He glanced over his shoulder, and his jaw sagged open at the sight of the KC, ripped and bleeding air, explosions casting shadows over the surrounding rocky chaos. She would blow at any moment.

“SMC, broadband comm on all League frequencies.”

“Channel open.”

“To all League vessels: the King Charles is about to explode. Twelve enemy battleships plus three Pruessen E-boats in orbit. Good luck to us all. Telford.”

“Message sent.”

Could the Kamora handle the EMP from the KC’s massive explosion, or would it fry her systems? He could not take the chance.  

Nathan dived for the planet’s surface.

***

“Unknown vessels,” Poly said, “evacuate the Grand Channel immediately, for your own safety.” Still her reprogramming held firm.

Poly continued to reroute power to damaged systems, continued to shore up the engineering deck, continued to fight for her life.

Ahead, the first battleship had come to a halt and now tried desperately to back up. The vessels behind her were not as fast to react to the crisis. The second ship plowed into the lead. The two ships skewed to either side of the channel and tore into the shield emitters. They blew apart, causing a cascade effect that took the other emitters with them.

Poly could do no more as the massive ships, so close to her, exploded.

“Nathan, I want to live.”

The King Charles Battle Platform died with an explosion that could be clearly seen from the surface of Cimmeria, over forty thousand kilometers away.

***

Captain John Richards had received all the bad news he could handle for one day: the KC apparently on a suicidal charge toward the channel, and now unknown vessels heading toward the fleet. What ships? Whose ships? His T-O cleared her throat.

“Captain, I’m reading twelve vessels on a heading toward the main fleet. Best estimation is that they are battlecruisers or possibly battleships. They are squawking non-League IFF transmissions. The KC has collided with the channel and could explode at any time.”

Richards’ first officer made a
kaboom
gesture with his hands.

“Transmit intel to the flagship. Flash feed only.”

“Captain, I’m receiving comm traffic.”

“Let’s have it.”

“To all League vessels: the King Charles is about to explode. Twelve enemy battleships plus three Pruessen E-boats in orbit. Good luck to us all. Telford.”

“Comm, relay the message to the flagship. Flash feed only.”

“Captain,” the T-O said, “the bulk of the enemy force has come to a dead stop. One ship — fuck me that’s a big bastard…” She cleared her throat. “…is moving toward the fleet.”

“Comm, contact the flag. Send tactical updates and positions of enemy dispositions. Flash feed only. Maintain updated intel as it comes to hand.”

For as long as we’re alive.

What could he do? Stay hidden within the field and risk being pummeled into scrap by the forthcoming shock wave, or escape into the torpedo envelope of eleven battleships?

As the minutes ticked by, Richards ran various scenarios through his head. No palatable options came to mind.

On a day that could not get any more bizarre, Richards could not help wondering about something. 

Who the hell is Telford?

“The KC’s exploded,” the T-O yelled. “The shockwave will hit us in fifteen seconds.”

Shit
.

***

Captain Gungerston made double checks on his command. His crew were good at their jobs: all stations manned, all weapons at the ready. When the commodore returned from his scouting mission, he would bring the Bret fleet right to him.

“Captain, the battle station has exploded. Shock wave will hit us in fifteen seconds.”

Shit.

“All ships break formation. Turn in to the wake. Divert all power to forward defenses.”

***

HMS
Tudor Rose
sat above the planet’s northern pole, its magnetic interference making a fine cloak for her and her sister ships.

“Captain, the King Charles has exploded, well into the channel. Shock wave will hit us in sixteen seconds.”

Better and better. Now if they’ll just—

“Captain, the enemy force has come about, facing into the shock wave.”

Barrington grinned.

“Guns, have you got them?” she asked.

“Right between our crosshairs.” Her grin matched the admiral’s. “We’ll probably lose ten percent due to the interference, but we’ll have enough on target to do the job. Especially with their skirts showing.”

The admiral nodded. “Barrington to all ships. Fire, fire, fire.”

Four battleships, three battle cruisers and five heavy cruisers fired in unison.

CHAPTER 68

Nathan passed through the planet’s inversion layer, Cimmeria’s surface rushing toward him. He hauled back on the yoke and rapidly gained altitude. The stars returned as he achieved orbital status.

He stared through his bow panels into a scene of unimaginable carnage. From forty thousand kilometers away, a corona of destruction marked the last resting place of the King Charles Battle Platform. Anything within ten thousand clicks of the far side of the explosion must have been destroyed. The annihilation of perhaps as many as twelve Pruessen battleships brought a satisfied smile to his face.

The battleships that had made it through the channel were nowhere to be seen. Where were the E-boats?

Nathan dodged around chunks of rock held in place by Cimmeria’s countering gravitational elements. The explosion should have blown the asteroid field out, not in. Perhaps collisions happened, deflections sending part of the rubble into orbital lock.

Where the hell were the Brets? Nathan could not imagine an officer of Barrington’s class sitting on her backside while a fight took place. Perhaps she had not received his transmission. With everything going to hell, it seemed more than likely. So, he would need to deal with the problems himself.

Yeah, hotshot, one fighter against three E-boats.

Then, perhaps not. He could not hope to defeat an enemy that outclassed him with boats, weapons and numbers, but perhaps he didn’t need to. Just delay them, tie them up until Barrington brought her big guns to bear.

First, of course, he had to find them.

“SMC, passive scan. Widest range.”

“Trephine crystal elements mixed with fine dust particles and radioactive fallout has created a scattering effect to all sensors. Indeterminate, alternating readings.”